Between Life and Death
by ClarySpeakman
Summary: Jace makes a critical decision - to fight for what he believes in, or to give up. He chooses the latter, and is introduced to an old ancestor. William Herondale.


Sebastian pushed his weight against the blade, forcing the point, inch by inch, into his heart. For a moment Jace was back in Idris, with Sebastian pinning him to the ground, a dagger in his heart. He remembered the weightless feeling that had coursed through him, his body as light as a feather, as if it were floating in the drifts of the ocean. He'd fought then, fought for his life, fought for Clary.

But now, pinned beneath the devil himself, looking up at his grinning face, he suddenly realized he had no purpose to live. He'd lost Clary to Sebastian - he had claimed her, turned her into a monster, and here, in this cavern, she fought beside him, slitting the throats of her own kind and laughing as she did so. Fought beside each other, Jace thought, like brother and sister.

Darkness clouded his vision as Sebastian wedged the blade in even further. Jace cried out, his shriek of agony lost in the thunderous tumult surrounding him. "I'd be lying to myself if I said I didn't enjoy the sound of your pain," said Sebastian.

Jace's fingers spasmed into wet rock. He was gasping. "That's very... endearing of you. You know," he said, "she will turn against you."

He twisted the dagger, making Jace arch upward off the ground as another jolt of pain shot through him. Sebastian's grin twisted into a snarl. "Like she turned against _you,_ you mean? I never thought Clary was anything like me. She seemed too... too soft hearted. And then I found out that she killed Valentine, and that was when I realized. _She is exactly like me."_ He was sneering, spitting each word as if it were poison. "My little sister fighting beside her big brother. Who'd have thought it?"

"She still hates you. You know that, right?" Jace's voice was taught as a wire. "All of this - it's just an illusion. Who Clary really is-" his head lolled to the side, and he saw her, her red hair flailing out around her like a flame as she sliced through the remains of a werewolf, jabbing at it and grinning "-is concealed beneath the monster you've made out of her. She's still Clary. She still despises you. That will never change."

A roar of rage came out of the other boys throat - an almost animal sound, inhuman - as he drove the blade into his heart.

For a moment, Jace spasmed on the rocks, his hands clawing at his chest as if he were choking. But, he realized, he _was_ choking, choking on his own blood. It dotted his vision now, turning it an array of beautiful colours, like a rainbow.

Darkness coated him completely, and he welcomed it, wishing the pain would stop and he would no longer have to suffer.

And it did.

He cloaked himself in the darkness, fell into it - and then he was standing, looking down at his own body which lay in a pool of widening blood. His eyes were open, staring fixedly at the ceiling, only now there was no life in them. His hands, Jace saw, were clutched around Sebastian's where he held the dagger, the hilt still protruding from his chest.

Jace stared down at his bloody hands in wonder, and then at Clary, and then at Sebastian, and he realized - he was dead. He put a hand to his chest, expecting to feel something but already knowing there would be nothing to feel - no heartbeat. "No!" he gasped, running his hands along his arms, over his bloody shirt, his chest. He found the wound there, a knife wound, where a blade had pierced his heart. "Clary-"

He looked at her, and was shocked at the feeling of pride he felt. He watched the way she angled her feet, the way she moved on the balls of her toes, watched her determined expression focused on her prey, her black eyes empty of emotion - and he knew, in that moment, that he was proud of her. Clary, who was once so small and delicate, who cringed at the sight of blood. She was a warrior. And he was proud.

Sebastian released his hold on the hilt, touching the other boys eyes closed and mouthing words he couldn't hear - the world was silent here - though Jace knew. Hail and farewell, Jace Herondale. Jace idly wondered why Sebastian would do it, why he'd give him that closure. He was doing it for Clary, he thought, because it was what she would have wanted.

"My, my," said a voice from behind. A boys voice, arrogant and British. It reminded him of his own. "Jace Herondale. Looking a little shredded, I must say. Determined to make an entrance, were you?"

He turned. A boy stood before him - probably about seventeen - with pitch-black hair and luminous-blue eyes, like Alec's. He was a little taller than Jace, with a slightly more masculine build. His cheekbones were smooth and elegant, and his mouth was curled into a crooked grin. Anger pulsed through him - only Jace was capable of making that grin. "William Herondale," he said, and held out a hand. "But most people call me Will."

Jace shook it. "Herondale? But-"

"I know," said Will. "You're my little..." A thoughtful look crossed over his face. "...little little little little brother. Here to welcome you to the other side, as one would call it."

"I know you," said Jace, abruptly. The other boy did not look surprised. "Jem mentioned your name. Said you two were parabatai..."

At that, an uncertain expression replaced the otherwise blank one. "Did he, now?" He cocked his head to the side. "And what, exactly, has he been saying about me? Has he told you about my hatred for ducks, how I once galloped to the heart of Wales to save a damsel in distress-?"

"Will." A girl's voice. "Stop. The boy doesn't need to hear you moping about your sad love life."

"Jessamine," said Will, through clenched teeth. "I'm sorry you could make it."

Jace looked expectantly at the place where the voice had come from, just as a girl in a white dress with dirty blonde hair emerged from behind a rock. "Don't make me make you sorry. Jessamine Lovelace," she said to Jace, smiling a brilliant smile. "Pleased to meet your acquaintance."

The girl was both old-fashioned as she was beautfiul, Jace thought, with hazel eyes and an exposed bosom. A red ribbon was tied around her throat, drawing his attention there. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't pleased to meet you, Miss Lovelace."

The girl brushed off his attempt at flattery with a wave of her hand, and turned to the boy beside her, who was casually entertaining himself by carving his initials into the rock with a kitchen knife. "William Herondale," Jessamine read aloud, "was here." She snorted. "Can you stop acting absolutely ridiculous for _one second?"_

"No," Will replied, pushing himself off the rocks. "There's nothing more ridiculous than wearing a dress in the middle of winter."

Jace couldn't help it. He saw an opportunity, and he took it. He said, "I'd give anything to see you in a wiggle dress, Herondale. I'm sure you'd look dashing."

Will regarded him with an amused look, his eyes narrowing. "I see where you get that smart mouth from, young one."

"Meaning you?"

"Actually," said Will, and now his voice was edged with a wicked tone, "I was thinking of your father. Valentine, was it?"

Jessamine looked appalled. But Jace - Jace just stared at him, his icy-calm slipping away like water. His hands were in fists at his sides. But all he said was, "What will happen now? Now that I'm... dead?"

"Why," Jessamine said cheerfully. "You will come and stay with us, of course. Everyone has been _dying_ to meet you. There's Cecily Herondale, Henry and Charlotte Branwell, Gabriel Light-"

"Gabriel Lightworm," interrupted Will. "His name is Gabriel Lightworm. We have already been through this, Jessie."

Jace glanced back over his shoulder - he saw Magnus, spitting blue balls of fire from his fingertips, Jocelyn and Luke, fighting beside one another like parabatai, Sebastian, embracing his little sister and smirking as if he knew Jace were watching him behind an invisible wall. He scanned the crowd again, looking for dark hair. Anywhere. But found nothing.

"Magnus!" he yelled, knowing he couldn't hear him.

"Jace?"

A pang went through him, and he turned, hoping it wasn't true.

Alec stood beside Will, his dark hair dishevelled and his blue eyes wild. His shirt was torn open down the center, revealing an ugly wound that looked about the size of a fist. "Are you... dead?"

"Course not," Jace answered. "I'm ordering pizza. Yes, Alec, I'm dead. I could ask the same about you. What the hell are you doing here? You just gave up, left Izzy and your parents-?"

"Max," whispered Alec. "Where is he? Is he here?"

"He's here," said Will. He sounded almost bored. "Don't worry. We've been taking good care of him. You'll have to come quick, though. We need to get back before nightfall." He looked apologetically at Jace, who stood, frozen. "It's too late for her now. Clary, I mean. You need to move on. Let her go."

Jace's knees buckled beneath him. He felt Alec's arms go around him, but he was already too far gone.


End file.
